


Blood Ties

by taispeantas_laethuil



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Family, Gen, Mommy!Lavellan, background pairings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 06:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4128891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taispeantas_laethuil/pseuds/taispeantas_laethuil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Pavus arrives at Skyhold. Dorian is not at home, the Inquisitor is highly skeptical of her motives, and Lady Pavus really hopes that the Inquisition's wine cellar is someone's pitiful excuse of a joke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Hahren!”

Inquisitor Lavellan didn’t bother to look up from the latest missive she was penning to Marquise Briala, but rather pointed at the sign Cole had helpfully placed near her desk: ‘If you aren’t on fire, knock before entering’.

It said a lot that Cole thought it would be more helpful inside her office than on the door to her office. It said more that this wasn’t the first time someone had responded to it by trying to light themselves on fire, rather than going back outside of her office and knocking.

“Really, Neria,” she sighed, as the crackle of lightning made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “I expect this sort of thing from Dorian.”

“Funny you should mention him,” Neria said, the static she’d created disappearing before anything important got singed. “We ran into his mother on our way in from escorting informants around the Dirth. She’s on her way here.”

The Inquisitor paused for a moment before, forcing herself to act very calmly, putting aside her quill and sprinkling pounce to speed along the still-drying ink. “Is she now?”

“She is,” Neria confirmed. “Hall’s already informing Cullen.”

“Thank you,” she said, standing. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll take a walk.”

* * *

 

Dorian hadn’t spoken about his mother very often- he wouldn’t speak very much about his father either, had it not be for the fact that she’d met him, and that he’d told Cole he could ask him questions. She had vague recollections of a few remarks about being infantilized by her when they were at Halamshiral for the winter ball, and also that she’d had the servants take him out on the lake while she drank. Neither comment was anything to provoke suspicion, but she hadn’t been sent to the Conclave because she was the sort to not be suspicious.

When Dorian father had tried to contact him, he’d done it under the cover of cloak and dagger, trying to lure him well of the way of Skyhold. He hadn’t wanted to be seen with the dreaded Inquisition, or so Dorian had claimed, and Magister Pavus hadn’t argued that point. Lady Pavus apparently didn’t care, which could go either way in terms of whether this meeting would be good or bad.

Not that such a meeting would be happening immediately- with things in Kirkwall being as diplomatically convoluted as they were, they’d allowed Provisional Viscount Bran to hire out the Chargers to help keep things as peaceful as they could be in Kirkwall, and Dorian was, temporarily acting as their liaison between the Inquisition and the mess that was Kirkwall while he went looking for the Rifts that Prince Sebastian insisted didn’t exist and every expert in magical theory she had insisted must be cropping up everywhere, what with the Veil being as thin as it was in Kirkwall. They were due to return within the month- that gave her plenty of time to try and smoke out her motives.

The Inquisitor studied the woman as she stepped out of her carriage at the entrance to Skyhold. Lady Pavus was a beauty in the style of what the Orlesians would call a dusky rose- olive skin, hazel eyes, and auburn hair that shone copper in the light. She thought that Dorian’s mother was a few years younger than her husband- not very many, she would guess, but perhaps five- provided that her skill in discerning human’s ages actually had improved since the Inquisition had named her its leader. That made the age gap between Pavus and Lavellan just about the same as the age gap between their respective children.

That seemed significant, somehow.

Inquisitor Lavellan greeted her on the drawbridge, before she entered Skyhold properly. Lady Pavus held herself with the same wary aloofness that her son excelled at, and was escorted by two women who showed her every deference, an elf around her own age and a young, fit human.

“Inquisitor Lavellan,” she greeted her.

“Lady Pavus,” she replied. “Dorian is not here, at present.”

“Yes, I can see as much,” was the response. “And is he expected to return soon?”

“I couldn’t say,” Lavellan replied. “I also couldn’t say whether or not he’ll see you when he returns.”

“Why is that?”

“The first is classified,” Lavellan told her. “The second is entirely down to Dorian. If he doesn’t want to see you, you will leave, and that will be the end of it. In the meantime, you’re welcome to stay here as our guest, provided you follow a few rules.”

“Continue.”

It was a command, not a request, but Lavellan had had too much experience with shemlen rudeness to be taken aback by it- or allow it pass unchallenged.

“Shall I presume that you know better to bring slaves with you?” she asked.

Lady Pavus didn’t flinch. “Of course. My bodyguard and maiordorma are free women.”

“You’ll be set up in your own suite of rooms in the diplomatic wing,” Lavellan said, watching the human’s face for any sign of distress at knowing that her presence could very well be made known to a half-dozen governments within the fortnight. There was none. “Once you’ve settled in, you’ll be provided with an escort, who will show you around Skyhold, and point out the areas you are and are not allowed into. He will also show you the dungeons. If you are found somewhere you are not supposed to be, I will not hesitate to incarcerate you. If you are found to have any kind of ulterior motives in coming here, I will not hesitate to incarcerate you. If you are involved in any kind of conspiracy, whether against Dorian specifically or the Inquisition in general, I will not hesitate to incarcerate you. If your servants are found to be engaging in any kind of illicit activities, whether or not they act on your behalf, I will not hesitate to incarcerate the three of you. Do you understand?”

“I understand entirely,” Lady Pavus replied with a thin smile. “What’s not understandable is why your Inquisition is not more popular in Tevinter, given the generous terms of your hospitality.”

“Ah, if I might let you in on a little secret there, Lady Pavus,” Lavellan replied. She didn’t wait before she continued with “We aren’t as lacking for friends in Tevinter as you might presume.”

Lady Pavus favored her with a haughty sniff, and Cullen’s troops moved in to collect her things. The Inquisitor waited until they’d left before turning to Ritts, who was leaning against the wall with a slight smirk upon her face.

“The bodyguard’s quite fit,” she remarked with a predatory smile.

“She’s from Tevinter, so that might be kind of a big deal,” Lavellan reminded her.

“I like a challenge.”

“Just don’t get killed,” the Inquisitor cautioned with a sigh. “I don’t want to upset Her Perfection because I got her favorite elf killed.”

“Come on, now,” Ritts replied. “We all know I’m her third favorite elf, after you and the Hero of Fereldan- maybe even fourth, after the Black Shadow.”

“Still.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m too pretty to die, Inquisitor: that’s why you recruited me, remember?”


	2. Chapter 2

Three days into her unexpected stay it seemed to Lavellan that the most objectionable thing about Lady Pavus was her tendency to raid the wine cellar, generally whilst loudly berating its contents. As the wine cellar wasn’t forbidden territory, and Dorian shared the same habit to a somewhat lesser degree, she was hesitant to incarcerate her over it.

Also, as long as she was being loud and drunk in public, then there was little chance that she was getting up to anything clandestine. Josephine had quietly confirmed that this was Lady Pavus and not an imposter, Ritts had her bodyguard well in hand (and that was really all the detail she needed in that respect, she’d been roped into refereeing Ritts and Sera’s ‘peach eating’ contest which Josephine had unexpectedly won, which already gave her more information than she required) and in all honesty, she had a lot on her plate. There were her plans for the next Arlathvhen to consider, Loranil had returned with news that her Keeper and her children would be coming to Skyhold to visit, Dagna had created some kind of long-distance communication network with the dwarven memory crystals that she wanted to test out, Divine Victoria was attempting to hold another peace conference with die-hard members of the Chantry and people who she actually liked, they were going to need to start planning and building some kind of village for all the civilians that were settling in- to say nothing of the number of families being started by Inquisition soldiers-and she was really hoping Solas would come dream with her soon, so they could discuss the whole Ameridan thing. Lady Pavus wasn’t really high up on her list of concerns, and so long as she caused no trouble and Dorian wasn’t yet back, that wasn’t going to change.

So she didn’t actually see the woman until she swept into her office.

“Really, Inquisitor, I must protest!”

The Inquisitor did not reply, but merely pointed to her sign. She was pleasantly surprised to find that Lady Pavus responded by walking back out of her office and knocking on the door.

“Huh,” she replied. “Normally when I do that to a mage, the mage in question lights themself on fire.” And Sera did that sometimes. And Dagna. And some of the Valo-Kas people that were filling in while the Chargers were busy, whether they were mages or not.

She’d caught Josephine hauling a bucket of water up to her office last week, ostensibly for use in case of someone setting themselves on fire and not being able to immediately put it out again, but she suspected that it might just be revenge.

“Truly?” Lady Pavus asked. “What curious behavior. I wonder if that’s what my son finds so enthralling about the South, all the quaint little customs that spring up from having your mages locked away and then suddenly set free.”

“Dorian started the fire-lighting trend, as I recall,” Lavellan informed her.

Lady Pavus looked taken aback. “Ah.”

“You were protesting?” she prompted.

“Yes, I was,” Lady Pavus said. “Specifically, I was protesting your wine cellar. That is a joke, yes? Or some sort of mildly clever decoy, perhaps? I _know_ my son would never consent to stay in such a place with such a poor selection of libations.”

‘Your son’s actually grown quite fond of Fereldan ale,’ was the first response that came to mind. ‘Fereldan ale and Qunari mercenaries.’

That would have been a really dumb thing to say, however, so instead she said “He has often complained about the quality of our alcohol.”

“I should think so,” Lady Pavus sniffed. “He was supposed to be raised for better things, you know.”

“Yes, good help must be so hard to find when you have to rely on slave-mongers to be honest,” Lavellan replied.

That threw Lady Pavus as well. “I- well. It was his father’s job to oversee his upbringing.”

Her opinions on Magister Pavus’ parenting skills were not things that could be expressed in any succinct or polite manner, so she nodded instead, smiling blandly.

“Have you tried the tavern?” she asked. “As I understand it, Cabot is having some kind of contest for a bottle of Sun Vint Blonde.”

“A contest?” Lady Pavus asked archly.

“A contest,” Lavellan confirmed. “If you can teach him a new word, the bottle’s yours.”

Lady Pavus hummed thoughtfully. Lavellan considered telling her that Dorian had already tried ‘thaumaturgy’ to no avail, but decided she wasn’t feeling quite that charitable.

“I suppose one must make do with what one has,” Lady Pavus said finally.

“A sensible philosophy,” Lavellan replied. “Now, unless there was something else you wanted to discuss…”

Lady Pavus wrinkled her nose in distaste. “There is certainly much left to be desired around here. I hardly know where to begin.”

The Inquisitor swallowed her first response, which would have been to insult her parentage in elven, and her second response, which would be to remind her that she was an unannounced guest of uncertain welcome. Before she could decide what she would actually do, there was a knock on the door.

“Enter,” she called out.

Brother Couldry entered. “I bring word from the Divine, Your Worship,” he said, leaving the door open behind him and looking directly at Lady Pavus.

Creators bless Divine Victoria I and her motley crew of well-meaning former bards, cutpurses, assassins, thieves, and Red Jennies.

“I am sorry, Lady Pavus, but this isn’t something I can put off,” Lavellan only sort of lied.

“Oh, Lady _Pavus_!” Brother Couldry cried. “You must be Dorian’s mother!”

“I am,” Lady Pavus replied uncertainly. “And you are?”

“Brother Couldry,” he introduced himself. “Formerly of the Chantry in Denerim, currently in charge Her Perfections program for restoring Andrastean relics to their rightful place, where they can be of use to people. Your son helps translate Arcanum every once in a while, and cross reference with Imperial Chantry lore. He’s such a bright young man, with such strong faith. If things were different, he could have very easily become the next Genetivi.”

Lady Pavus didn’t look taken aback so much as flabbergasted. “I- am very surprised to hear you say that,” she managed after a few moments of gaping. “Dorian was always such a vocal critic of the Chantry.”

“As many of us were,” Brother Couldry said smiling slightly. “The problem’s not with the Maker, or His Bride, or even the Chant. It’s with what people do to one another, using their faith as a justification for bad behavior. Still, people change, and we’re working to make sure it’s for the better now. Just think- future generations might look upon everything terrible that lead up to the Breach as insurance that the right people were in the right place at the right time to make the world a better place.”

“If things had gone differently, and Dorian hadn’t been in Redcliffe, then I can’t imagine how things would have been,” the Inquisitor added.

“Quite,” Lady Pavus said, still collecting her poise. “I’d expect nothing less from the heir to House Pavus.”

She swept herself upright, and half-curtsied at the Inquisitor. “I’ll leave you to your work, Inquisitor.”

She left. Brother Couldry closed the door behind her.

“It’s like she’s never even met her son,” he said with a sigh. “Really. I’ve seen Dorian at services lead by _Mother Giselle_ , and they get along like an Orlesian chevalier and a Night Elf.”

Lavellan shrugged. “From what I can tell, Tevinter doesn’t seem like the sort of place to breed strong family bonds.”

“And he wants to go back,” Couldry said.

“He wants to change things,” she pointed out gently. “And it’s not as though he would go alone.”

“Very true,” he said with a sigh. “Anyway, I am actually here on Chantry business- Her Perfection wants to discuss the potential for a Chantry observer to be present at the Arlathvhen you’re planning.”

“Oh dear,” said Inquisitor Lavellan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that's Slim Couldry, my favorite elf-blooded consulting criminal from DA:O. He just kind of snuck in there.
> 
> The Night Elves were a group of guerrilla-fighting city elf archers who fought for Fereldan during the dying days of the Orlesian occupation. One of these days I really have to finish my story about Adaia Tabris of the Night Elves.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel, of sorts, to [The Lovers, The Dreamers, And We](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3999826).


End file.
